Same Difference, Right?
by Animagus Anonymous
Summary: Charlie wants to do something special for his mum on Mother's Day


**A/N: This is written for the Golden Snitch's Mother's Day 2017 event for Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the house Horned Serpent.**

 **Character: Molly Weasley**

 **Prompts: (word) cooking, (setting) The Burrow, (character) Charlie Weasley**

 **Word Count (not including A/N): 1,497**

Charlie cautiously opened the door, calling his parents' names. When they didn't answer, he crept inside the Burrow and looked at the clock. Molly and Arthur's hands were at the "traveling" point. Charlie saw the note Spello-taped onto the clock that said,

 _Charlie,_

 _I am taking your mother out to lunch for mother's day; we haven't been out in ages. I found this amazing new Muggle restaurant that has ice cream that is fried! How amazing is that!? Anyway, we'll be back no later than 3:30 so feel free to come back later if you want._

 _-Dad_

He was going to cook for his parents, make them a huge dinner to surprise them when they came home. One thing anyone who knew Molly Weasley knew about her was that she always just wanted her family to be happy, and a huge part of the way she did that was by putting lots of delicious food on the table, every night, without fail, no matter how much money their family had. Now, Charlie was going to return the favor, even if it was only one meal compared to the thousands his mom had produced, he hoped that the gesture would be enough.

Charlie wasn't exactly a great chef. The only cooking experience Charlie had was levitating chicken livers to dragons from outside an enclosure. But, he had seen his mom with countless magazines and cookbooks with lots of different recipes in them. As long as he followed the instructions, how hard could it be?

 _Finally_ , Charlie had all of the recipes he needed raiding his mother's stash of cookbooks and magazines in the many cupboards that lined the kitchen walls. He was making all of her favorites: a roast, Yorkshire pudding, and toad in the hole. And he had gotten his ingredients (with some substitutes for the ones he couldn't find or were too expensive).

First, Charlie started on the roast. He mixed the seasoning together, estimating the amounts, and rubbed it on the roast. Then he put it in the oven (which he had forgotten to preheat) and started on his vegetables.

The recipe used potatoes and turnips, but he couldn't find any turnips, so he just skipped them. Same difference, right? By the time he had figured out how to use the knife, it had been 15 minutes and the chunks of the root were terribly uneven. But it would be fine. Same difference, right? He put them in the boiling (actually simmering) water and left that to cook for… ten minutes, the recipe said. He cast a timer charm and waited.

He took the potatoes off when the timer sounded, and drained them, spilling boiling hot water all over his pants and the floor. It would be fine, though. He cast a drying charm and left the potatoes in the sink. Now, all he had to do was wait a half an hour for the roast to be done and then he could move on. What to do? Start on the toad in the hole, of course.

He measured (actually estimated) the flour, sugar, pepper, eggs, milk, and butter into the batter for the dish and mixed it together like he was supposed to. The temperatures for the toad in the hole and the roast for the oven were different, but they were only off by 50 degrees. Same difference, right? Charlie left the oven where it was at and started cooking the sausages.

Ugh. That was the only way to describe his experience cooking sausages. The grease spitting everywhere, the burns (surprisingly nearly as painful as a dragon burn), and the sausages would never be cooked in the middle. By the time they were done, Charlie had mutilated every one of them, splitting them open to see if they were cooked. Nevertheless, it was fine; they were just a little cut up. Same difference, right?

Charlie faithfully put the sausages into the pan with the batter and opened the oven. He just barely managed to put the pan back on the counter before he was doubled over, coughing and choking from the smoke pouring out of the oven. The roast was burned! The recipe had said medium-rare (whatever that was), not burned! Charlie quickly hastened to take the roast out, where he promptly burned his hand, having not put on his oven mitts. He cursed, grabbed the mitts, and pulled the roast out.

After murmuring some charms to clear the air and heal his hand, he examined the roast. After cutting into it a bit, he could see that the inside was still quite bloody. If he scraped off the burnt outside, it would be fine. Same difference, right?

Charlie put the toad in the hole in the oven (which was at the wrong temperature) and went about preparing the vegetables and the rest of the seasoning for the roast. The vegetable had his full attention for a good 25 minutes, and in the process, he forgot the toad in the hole, same as he had forgotten the roast.

Thankfully, the dish wasn't too bad, only (more than) slightly burnt. He could work with that; same difference, right?

The roast and vegetables went back in the oven for another half an hour. Phew! All of this switching between going in the oven and taking things out was a lot for Charlie to handle, and the May heat combined with the oven heat was making the kitchen absolutely stifling. Charlie wasted no time throwing open a window and casting a few cooling charms.

Charlie then proceeded to set the table, placing the flowers he had brought earlier in the center. He then sat on the counter, swinging his arms like he used to before his Hogwarts days, completely content thinking about how pleasantly shocked his mother would be when she got home.

Abruptly, he smelled something burning. Damnit, he had burned the roast _again_! He made sure he had his mitts on this time, and quickly took out the roast. He then had to figure out how to carve it. The recipe said something about cutting between the ribs and the eat, and then the fatty portion of the roast (how was he supposed to know where the fat ended and the meat started?). He decided he would just wing it. Same difference, right?

15 minutes later, when he was done, he glanced at the clock. Yikes, it was 3:00. Half and hour until his parents would be home. He checked that everything was set, put the roast and toad in the hole on the table with a warming charm and admired his work. Yet, there was something missing, he couldn't place it…..

He gasped. The Yorkshire puddings! He had completely forgot to make them! Charlie glanced at the clock. He had time; he could make it, if he hurried.

20 minutes later, charlie was sweating. He had the puddings in the oven, but they had only been there for five minutes. He had had to skip some steps too, but same difference, right? He was starting to lose some of that faith.

The Weasley family clock made a noise, and Charlie glance up, panicked. His parents' hands were slowly moving from "traveling" to "home". He didn't have time. The puddings should be done by now, right? He decided to risk it, and took out the pan and set on the table just as he heard his mother calling, "Charlie? Is that you?"

"Yes, Mum, it's me!" he called, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

"It's awfully hot in here, what are you–oh, my, what happened?!" Molly Weasley came home to find her kitchen, her precious kitchen, completely ransacked. Her recipe books and magazines were all in a haphazard pile on the coffee table in the living room, there was flour, potatoes, and batter all over the counter, and a few recipes covered in vegetables and oil sitting there too. The sink was stacked high with dirty dishes, most of which seemed to have burnt food stuck to them.

But the table, the dining table, was beautifully set with flowers and a tablecloth and proper napkins and– what was that? There was a casserole dish with charred batter and bits of meat in it, a huge black lump of meat, and a cupcake pan full of raw batter. _Did Charlie cook this? Is that supposed to be a roast, and oh, toad in the hole, and unbaked Yorkshire pudding, yes that must be it!_ Molly thought. "What, what's all this?" she asked, still flustered at the disastrous state of her kitchen.

"I cooked you dinner. For mother's day." Charlie clarified.

"Oh, my boy come here!" She pulled her second eldest into one of her famous bear hugs.

"I know I'm not the greatest chef, and the food's burnt, and the puddings aren't cooked–"

"Oh, hush. It's the thought that counts."

And in Charlie's head, that translated to: _Same difference._ "Happy Mother's Day, mum."


End file.
